Remember Me
by Leaves-in-the-Sand
Summary: Eight hundred years ago, a heiress fell in love with a kage and was killed for it. He was sealed away into a tea kettle to be released by his lost love's reincarnation. GaaHina
1. Chapter One

I had lived in the same town for sixteen years but, after realization had finally dawned on me, that he was gone, Konoha didn't feel the same anymore. Like Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle, I was sixteen going on eighty. Cold swept through my bones, rendering me useless and my legs buckled, refusing to hold me any longer. I no longer felt like Hyuga Hinata.

Konohagakure, better known as Konoha, was a tiny town with a population of almost a thousand. Almost, but not quite. The local high school itself had close to one hundred students, almost thirty of them from out of town from a rural area. I myself lived in the upper floor of an antique shop and the smell of dust, must and cobwebs was probably way worse than wheat and cow manure. Fortunately, I didn't have the experience to compare.

Anyways, Konoha was known for being resurrected during the Edo Era by two clans, the Uchiha Clan and the Senju Clan, whom where the strongest. At first, nothing but mercenary clans existed but after much bloodshed, the Senju Clan offered a truce with the Uchiha. The leader of the Uchiha, Madara Uchiha objected but was forced by the rest of his clan to accept. The Senju, the Uchiha and the other clans conquered by the Uchiha came together to create Konohagakure. The leader of the Senju Clan, Hashirama Senju using a special, ancient technique called ninjutsu, which involving something called chakra, to create the first building in Konoha. Because of this, he was selected to be the First Hokage by the villagers, over Madara Uchiha.

Somewhere near Konoha is Sunagakure, which was founded by the First Kazekage, whom gathered desert dwelling shinobi-someone skilled in ninjutsu-under his control with his overwhelming power. At some point, the village came into possession of one of the nine legendary beasts. It was sealed into three different hosts so that the abilities could be studied. The Third Kazekage was able to emulate the beast's abilities, earning the recognition of the strongest Kazekage in history.

Knowing all this about my home and the town beside me did not comfort me nor did it warm the frost that was forming on my heart. My village, my town, my home had become something that you couldn't read about in textbooks or on the internet, or hear about from teachers or historians. It was not something one could prepare for, no matter what.

Grabbing the picture frame from my nightstand, I unclipped the back and pulled out a smaller picture that was hidden behind the one of my friends and I that the frame displayed. It was old, the edges torn and the color aged. In it was of my family. The family I was born with. In the middle was me, small with bob cut hair and rosy cheeks. To my right was my father, looking stern in his suit and his hair tied back, pulling his features taunt. To my left was my mother. Her skin was fair and her long wavy hair the color of eggplant, like mine. Her eyes were closed from her wide smile and she was dressed in a flowing sundress that draped over her youthful curves. I looked like her more than my father, but I inherited his eyes. White. My eyes were plain, milky, white with no iris nor pupil. They were just white.

I had no memories of my mother, for she was died a little after my third birthday, a point which I couldn't remember like most. My father however, was a different tale.

The best memory I had of him, the one that was the most vivid in my mind, was when I was six, just three years after the photo with my mother was taken. I was clutching onto my father's pant leg. It was cold, as if he gave no body heat and the color of the suit was a muted gray like ashen clouds. Dangling at his sides were his arms, not touching me. He was indifferent to my presence beside him but I wasn't too worried back then. I was more focused on who was in front of me.

Across from me was my cousin, Hyuga Neji, whom was a year older than me and the son of my father's twin brother. Unlike my father, Neji's father was warmer, his face aged with kindness, wrinkles crinkling the edges of his eyes and his laugh lines prominent. One of his palms was rested against the crown of Neji's head, pushing him against his leg. He and my father began talking but I wasn't listening to them. Neji had called me cute and blushed, a red so vibrant it made mine seem nothing more than a pink tinge.

My father's voice vibrated through me, the words frosty in the boiling summer heat. He was telling me to go. For the first time, father's hand came and pushed me forwards. Stumbling, I barely caught myself. Insistent, my father ordered me to go to my uncle again, whom I had never met before. He seemed kind enough in my young eyes. Neji passes by me and headed towards my father, whom immediately grabbed his arm. Peering over my shoulder, I was hoping to catch my father's gaze but his eyes were locked with his brother's. Frowning, I waddled over to my uncle, who crouched and patted both of my shoulders. "Hello wee little Hinata. It's nice to meet you again. I'm your Uncle Hizashi." again? I had never met him before. Perhaps he had seen me when I was a baby. In my six year old mind though, I never noticed his slip up.

That was the first time I had met Uncle Hizashi, whom from that moment on became my guardian. That was the day my father traded me for my cousin who was better than me. Or at least, that's what I thought. I had asked Uncle Hizashi why father didn't want me and he told me it was because I looked to much like my mother that it was painful for him to look at me. Eventually, Uncle Hizashi said, he would get over it, get over his loss. Then, we would be a family again.

Those were lies.


	2. Chapter Two

Within the last twelve hours, I had worn my finest black kimono, got picked up my one of my best friends to go to a funeral home, said my tearful goodbyes, watched my guardian get lowered into the ground, let my friend get piss drunk and watched him run naked down the street crying, watched the chief of police who was also attending the funeral throw him in the back of the cruiser and I had ate so many cakes and tuna sandwiches my favorite pair of jeans didn't fit me any more. That had summed up my Saturday.

Because of the death of Uncle Hizashi, the chief of police, Uchiha Itachi wants to sell the antique shop because I won't be able to run it. Of course, this will mean that I will be passed on to my next guardian. The same man who gave me up. My blood father. Before being sent to my father's though, Itachi agreed to let me go through my uncle's stuff, everything in his room and in the shop, and pick what I liked. Eagerly, I went through everything in the shop. It wasn't ideal but old things fascinated me. They were Uncle Hizashi's precious collectables. I picked an old calligraphy set and a lantern. The rest of it was too outrageous, like the samurai outfit, or rather useless, like the string to hold yen that came from the Edo Era.

Then, I wandered into his room. It was set up like mine, only less feminine. The walls were a pale, woodland green whereas mine was lavender. On his night table was an old book with a worn, leather binding. Carefully, I picked it up and flipped open a few pages. It was about Konoha and Suna and people of importance from that era. A history book. Against my better judgement, I threw it in with the rest of the stuff I was taking.

After that, I went to his closet. All of his clothes were hanging up. From his shirts to his pants to his night clothes. Everything. I wondered faintly if his underwear were hanging up but then I reminded myself that he did possess a dresser. Who knew what was in that thing. It took me a moment to remember Uncle Hizashi was gone and that I could look. Pushing away the guilt I felt, I headed towards the dresser and hesitantly pulled the first one open. Underwear. Of course. Smiling, I went to the next one. Color coded socks. The next. More pants and shirts. Groaning, I went to the last one. Organized within it was a rolex watch, a tie I made him in grade two for father's day, a couple of my school assignments he was particularly fond of, a dagger set, an ancient arrow sealed in a glass box, a fine, silky cerulean and violet kimono pressed into an open toped case, a velvet box and a tea kettle.

Immediately I went for the velvet box, my chest clenching like it was stuck in an iron band. Not fast enough, I flipped the lid open. In side were two bands. One was for a male, the other a female. They were beautifully handcrafted though the male's was simple with nothing more than a tiny opal glittered to the one side, a marking made beside it. I wasn't an expert in ancient kanji so I didn't have the faintest clue on what it read. On the female ring was a singular kanji on the inside of the ring, unlike the male's. Outside of the ring was a large opal, surrounded by tiny glittering diamonds. The band was thin and delicate and I couldn't resist running my fingers over it. Stopping myself, I snapped it shut and pocketed it. Pulling my bag over, I took everything from my Uncle's drawer and threw it in, even the tea kettle.

Scurrying around, I grabbed my favorite shirts, sweaters, socks and anything else that peaked my interest. I felt bad about doing it, like I was a scavenger. Even if I reminded myself that Uncle Hizashi left everything to me for me to pick from, I still felt it in me. It was just further from the surface. I was always doing that. Burying my feelings. Uncle Hizashi said it wasn't healthy and I agreed whole heartedly but it second nature to me now. I couldn't let things go and I kept remembering. Remembering things that brought along unwanted emotions. Then, after wallowing in it, I would push it away and hide it again. And then the process would go on.

Hauling the bag over my shoulder, I fingered the weight in my pocket, reassuring myself that the cherished rings were still there. Stepping out of the house, I pondered on their origins. Were they Uncle Hizashi's? Was he once in love? Yes, perhaps they were the rings of he and Neji's mother. She had passed on and that was all I knew of her. It could be theirs. Or it could be father and mother's rings. I knew that the cold hearted man my father was wouldn't want to keep something that reminded him of my mother and his beloved wife. Hell, he couldn't keep me.

"Miss Hinata." it was a man I didn't know but he was holding open the door of a limo. Inside I could see the silhouette of my father. My throat tightened and as slowly as possible, I walked forwards. I didn't neglect to notice how the driver had called me 'Miss Hinata' and not Miss Hyuga. I wasn't really a Hyuga in my father's eyes. Just like his brother. Uncle Hizashi had been shunned by my father long before I was. Father thought I was worthless and that his brother was worthless so why not put us together and let us be worthless with each other?

Inside the limo, my father snapped his fingers and the sound pierced the air. He was hurrying me up. He wanted to get it over with. I hadn't seen him in two years, for I had made the mistake of going with Uncle Hizashi to my cousin's grade nine graduation where he was present. We had exchanged some tense greetings before parting rather quickly.

Crawling inside the limo, I sat at the very end, furthest away from the man whom helped conceive me. I could barely see him through the darkened cab and for reassurance I grabbed onto the bulge in the pocket of my sweater where the rings sat, my bag strewed across my lap. The man slammed the door shut and strutted over to the driver's seat, revving the engine and crawling out of the parking lot of the antique shop. Away from my home.

Something twitched in my stomach and I clawed at the window, my eyes greedily eating up the sight of my house. Our house. It felt like the last time I would see it. It was an odd knowledge. I had lived in that house for as long as I could remember and the thought of never stepping into the front door, weaving through the antiques, rushing up the creaking old steps after school, throwing myself onto the couch as my uncle hummed in the store below me. I missed all of it and I desperately wished for it back. I would trade my right arm for things to be like they were.

The house disappeared behind others and I fell back into the cushion, my eyes finding the feet of the man across from me. Uncle Hizashi would make me think of encouragements. Because of him, I was a reader. Like Uncle Hizashi, I would read anything. Uncle Hizashi always made me read quotes from famous people for he said if you applied them to life, they wouldn't make it easy, but it would make you wiser. If he was there, beside me, what would he say? Who would he quote?

Getting over a painful experience is like crossing monkey bars, C.S Lewis had said, you have to let go at some point in order to move forward.

Sometimes, Marilyn Monroe advised, good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

The reasonable man adapts himself to the world, George Bernard Shaw cautioned, the unreasonable persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man.

You're braver than you believe, A.A Milne encouraged, and stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.

Twenty years from now you will be disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the one's you did, Mark Twain counsels. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore.

Dream.

Discover.

Gathering up courage, I moved my gaze away from my father's feet and met his harsh gaze. And I didn't falter.


	3. Chapter Three

At first, nothing happened. Neither of us spoke and I assumed my father expected me to bow after my moment rebellion. I didn't. Uncle Hizashi never did. He would smile. Channeling him, I smiled. For a split second, my father looked taken back and he cleared his throat, disgruntled. Just as quickly as the surprise appeared, it was gone and he almost lounged back. Of course, Hyuga Hiashi never lounged, he was only ever posed.

"Hinata." his voice was tough and his aged peeked through. Maliciously, the thought of him being old and close to being crippled or even dying made me smile more. The old bastard deserved to die, not Uncle. "These arrangements are not ideal." his fingers ran along the straight line of his pant suit.

"No." I murmured, pulling my bag closer to me so that I could feel the tea pot digging against my stomach. It almost seemed hot but I figured that must have been me. Stress was boiling in the pit of my tummy like a pot of hot water and I was close to exploding. "These aren't. But, between us, there never has been ideal circumstances, have there?" somewhere in me, I wondered when I had gotten so bold. Perhaps, Uncle Hizashi was with me. Maybe he was the one speaking, not me.

He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, Antoine de Saint-Exupery advised, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.

Yes, Uncle Hizashi was with me. He will always be with me.

At my words, my father fell silent and only stared at me. I could make out a slight glint to his pale eyes. It was not something usually present. Normally, dull would be the best way to describe him. Nothing sparkled in his eyes anymore. It was as if Hyuga Hiashi was dead on the inside.

Through the tinted windows I could the houses disappear before we made it to the outskirts. The Hyuga compound was ginormous. One of the biggest buildings in Konoha actually. I sometimes passed it with my friends but I had never really looked at it. I felt like an infant, my eyes new and innocent. They weren't though, not anymore. Not these eyes who knew death, loss, sadness, adventure, humor, betrayal, envy and curiosity. These eyes knew sixteen years of experience.

In 1932, Aldous Leonard Huxley preached, experience is not what happens to a man. It is what a man does with what happens to him.

The driver opened the door and waved his hand towards me as a sign to tell me to get out. Quickly, I scooted out, gripping my bag so hard my hands began to burn. Stumbling out, I approached the building. It had been so long since I had last walked the halls, I wondered if anything had changed. The way my father was though, I doubted it.

Even from the outside, the compound was still traditional japanese, built in the Edo Era by the original Hyuga Clan, a branch off of the Uchiha clan. Recalling the images of my home, the antique shop, I realized everything would be different. Uncle Hizashi had done his best to modernize the place, wanting me to feel at home in the twenty first century. I has a sixteen year old girl that needed a place to fit. The antique shop was his home and the twenty first century was mine.

You can never go home again, Maya Angelou notified, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right.

Home, Christian Morgenstern remarked, is not where you live but where they understand you.

My father stepped out of the limo and walked past me, the front door swinging open, a man in a fancy suit holding it for him. Behind me, the limo drove off, disappearing down the street. Hesitantly, I followed, the butler nearly slamming the door on me, catching it just in time. Heart pounding, I peered around. The entire place was cold and empty and my heart echoed off the vacant walls as loud as my father's footsteps as he stalked down a long corridor to the right, leaving me at the door.

Dear Christian Morgenstern, the Hyuga compound is not my home.


	4. Chapter Four

At first, I walked slowly down the hallway after my father but my imagination got the best of me despite my many quotes and I sped up my pace to get to the room he stepped into. The room must have been his office, for there was a desk, a computer and lots of paper, not to mention his big, plushy leather, wheely chair. Rich bastard, the chair probably cost the same amount as Uncle and I's whole house.

Father picked up the phone after dialing a number and the room was filled with a stuffy silence. Gulping and looking around, I spotted a large painted portrait of him and my mother, looking happy, dressed in their wedding attire. Ire rolled and rumbled within me and I wanted to scream at him. He couldn't keep me but he could keep a large painting of her? How did that even work? I was not her and he couldn't stand to look at me yet he could look at a huge painting of her face. Asshole.

"Yes." I jumped and looked away from the painting, turning back to him. His gaze was locked onto the screen of the computer which was casting a pale glow on his waxy, old face. "Yes." he glanced at me rapidly, before turning back to the screen, "Yes, she's here. Yes. Fine. I will." then he hung up.

Leisurely, he turned to me and his cold eyes ran straight through me like daggers. Ordering me to sit down, I thought about the way he looked at me. Like I was a band-aid that needed peeling. Not a way a father should look at his daughter but I doubt that my gaze of complete abhor was any better. I did not look at him as he was my father, but as my adversary. As the antagonist to my protagonist. As the Voldemort to my Harry. As the Darth Vader to my Luke.

He told me to sit again and I resisted snapping at him. Instead, I did as told and sat, my bag sitting on my lap like a wall between my father and I. "I know my brother left everything to you." I just stared. "The Uchiha won't let me near any of his belongings." at this, I did my best not to smile and thankfully succeeded. "What did you find?"

I was surprised by his eagerness and rather taken aback. What would he want with Uncle's stuff? Both my head and my heart told me something wasn't right. There was something wrong. If my father hated me so much, why would he agree to take me in. He could easily ship me off to Canada and never see or hear from me again. He wanted something that Uncle Hizashi and Police Chief Itachi were hiding from him and I wasn't going to squeal.

An ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness, promised Elbert Green Hubbard.

Loyalty is the pledge of truth to oneself and others, Ada Velez-Boardley pronounced.

"I don't understand." I grit out, my fingers rubbing circles on the ring box as my hand rested itself in the sweater pocket. Even if I had barely even possessed the rings, they felt familiar in my pocket, like they were mine. Like the bands belonged to me. It was absurd and I knew it but it felt so right and my fingers itched to try the feminine ring on.

"Hizashi has a few items of mine." his long fingers tapped on the wood surface of the desk impatiently, "Like a pair of rings." Freezing, I forgot how to breath. My heart clenched and my face felt hot similar to how I felt after physical education in middle school. A protective instinct came over me and I was tempted to push the computer monitor onto him and run for it. That would be stupid though. He would find me and it was not like Konohagakure was that big. Not to mention, Father had enough money to send a S.W.A.T team after me. I could hid in Africa and they would still find me.

"Rings?" I repeated dumbly, my fingers wrapping around the worn, velvet box. "I didn't find any rings. I took mostly clothes." mentally swearing, my mind raced several possible lies through my brain filter, all of them on the tip of my tongue.

Leaning forwards, my Father echoed me, "Mostly clothes? What else do you have in the bag Hinata." he put unnecessary force into my name. It seemed almost vulgar on his lips and I wanted to punch him. If I were one of my friends, I would have already. Luckily, I was the most patient of our group for none of them would have put up with such torture.

"I took some antiques from the store." spilled out of my mouth. More word vomit continued, "Like a few lamps, scrolls, pens, inks, caps. Love it." calm yourself Hinata. What would Uncle Hizashi say?

Discipline is remembering what you want, a quote from David Campbell.

What do I want? I want my uncle back. No. He's in a better place. What do you want Hinata? Love, eat, pray. No. What do you want Hinata? I want a rocket ship. And Hermione Granger. Damned it Hinata! Getting off track!

I want to be in peace. I want to find love. I want to be free.

Mother Teresa had preached, if we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong together.

Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end. These words were spoken by an author I can not name.

Dwight D. Eisenhower spoke, freedom has its life in the hearts, actions, the spirit of men and so it must be daily earned and refreshed - else like a flower cut from its life-giving roots, it will wither and die.


	5. Chapter Five

Having never been a patient man, it was easy to piss my father off. He kept pressuring me into answering his questions and nothing but lies tumbled from my lips. I kept reassuring myself that uncle Hizashi wouldn't mind. Of course, he had always been an honest man and expected the same from me but I didn't doubt for a second that he would be offended with the way I treated his brother. Hell, the guy had traded me for his brother's son. I was allowed to hold a grudge by the way he treated me. It made my blood boil and I wanted to destroy shit. I wanted to go to a store and smash everything in it. I never did of course. That would be a felony. I was not a criminal. I was a liar and yes, there was a difference.

After being banished to my room, my rotten scumbag of a father left me to wander the empty halls. There wasn't anyone around and I wondered where all the other Hyuga Clan members were. The compound was only monumentally colossal because there were so many family members living in it. All Hyuga stayed within the compound. By my knowledge, Uncle Hizashi and I were the only ones to have never stayed.

Ambling up a set of stairs, I was beginning to creep myself out by thinking of different Supernatural episodes only I didn't have a pair of gorgeous brothers to save me. My steps halted and I thought of a pair of beautiful black haired brothers that I knew particularly well. Blushing at my thoughts I hurried my steps, praying to the Lord for someone to come out of nowhere and help me and not try to kill or eat me.

As my luck had it, I spotted someone coming out of a room and sprinted for them. It was a boy my age and when I got closer I realized who it was. Neji! Never in my entire life had I been so happy to see him. Hurrying, I rushed up to him and seized his lean body into a tight hug, burying my face between his shoulder blade.

He gasped and struggled. Afraid to get beaten, I let go quickly and peered up at him with shining eyes. Neji was by far one of my favorite people in the world. Which was a hard feat to accomplish if you were a Hyuga, for I seem to hold a grudge against them. I could never imagine why...

"Hinata!" his thin pink lips curled up into a rare smile and he brushed his palms against my shoulders. He had never been one for great displays of affection, public or not. "Uncle left for Father's shop but I didn't realize he was going to take you in!" internally, I winced at the word uncle. It was easy for me to forget that to Neji, my Father was his uncle and to I, Neji's father was my uncle. We were twisted. And not in the way most assume. That's my Father, not us.

"I can't find my room..." I whispered, embarrassed. Still smiling, he wrapped his cold hand around mine, which was probably just as frozen, for the compound felt like an ice palace, and led me down a corridor.

"Don't worry Hinata." his voice was low, not yet a whisper but not quite a normal octave. As if he was afraid someone would overhear his words. "Uncle Hiashi won't bother you. He's much to preoccupied." by the dark look that graced his pointed features, I felt like I was missing something. Was Father doing something malevolent again? I would not be surprised. Father was the type of person to kick puppies, strangle kitties and steal food from the homeless only to throw it in a puddle and call it trash. Or something along those lines. I didn't know what the man did in his spare time.

It seemed as if Neji had seen my curious look but he disregarded it and led me down another hallway that somehow seemed familiar, as if I had walked down it in a dream. In the dream though, I remembered it being warmer. Much warmer. Light had basked the floors and walls and cast golden glows wherever I had stepped but now the hall was nothing more than graying floors and dusty, oak panels that had seen better days. Despite the antique shop being cramped and musty, it felt like a home. More so than the mansion of a house called the Hyuga compound. How Neji could ever call it home was beyond me.

At last, Neji stopped at a door and I felt as though we had been walking forever. Pushing the door open, my breathe caught at the sight. It was warmer, with the large window pulled open and balmy heat was illuminating the entire room. To the far left was a large bed, kind sized at the most with thick cobalt sheets and a poka-dotted comforter the shade of a robin's egg. To the one side was a night stand with a simple lamp standing on it. Beneath the window was a desk with a comfy chair like the one Father had in his office. On the desk was a computer that looked expensive and shiny and I wanted to hold it. To the right was a bookshelf and a dresser. The room was pretty simple and bare but something swelled within me. At first, it seemed to just be complete and utter content. This was my room. I lived with my family, with my father and I was a normal kid again. But then, resentment. For my father kicking me out, for taking Neji away from his father, for lavishing me with this gorgeous room, for Uncle not living to accomplish more, for him not succeeding in more than being an antique shop owner. I didn't want any of this. I wanted, I hoped for a normal life like any other girl and I could accomplish that now. I could forget about Uncle Hizashi, about the antique shop, about my life before. I could forget how Father pushed me to my Uncle when I was six, nothing more than an innocent child, who couldn't understand why her father didn't want her.

Neji had left, closing the door with a soft snap behind me. It was so empty. My old room was covered with posters and picture. You walked in and knew it belonged to me. This room was desolate. It lacked the luster of life. Of my life.

Of course, I could change that. I could change everything.

As Alan Alda said, you have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your institution. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself.


	6. Chapter Six

Dropping the bag onto my new bed, thoughts of how Uncle Hizashi would react ran through my mind. Would he be upset that I was going to live with my Father, the man who had kicked us out of the clan? Would he be proud that I could banish the grudge and except my family? What did he want me to do with my life now? I had never dreamt up a world without him and now, with him gone, I was lost.

From M*A*S*H, Dan Wilcox says, I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich.

Johann Schriller reassures, it is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us father and sons.

A peacefulness follows any decision, pledges Rita Mae Brown, even the wrong one.

It's not hard to make decisions when you know what your values are Roy Disney assures.

So, Uncle Hizashi wouldn't matter what I decided. As long as I'm happy, he's happy. My values are not his values so he can not speak or decide for me. Just because I share the same flesh and blood as Hiashi, does not make him my father. He sired me, nothing else. Hyuga Hizashi was my true father. The one who loved and raised me. The one who would help me hide a dead body, the person who held me when I cried. He was always there. Hiashi was not. He is not my father.

Unclipping my bag and throwing the top open I pushed against the glass box that held the arrow and took out the tea kettle that was so freaking heavy. I hadn't really noticed anything about it before. It just seemed like a normal tea kettle to me. But, as I inspected it, I noticed there was a seal on it. It was pure white, not a day aged, the complete opposite of the old kettle. Really, it needed to be junked. The seal had beautifully inscribed kanji on it that was smooth and dented beneath my finger tips. Why would Uncle Hizashi keep an old tea kettle with a seal on it? Perhaps he found it at a garage sale or it was sold to him. No, he wouldn't keep something of little value in his personal drawer. Perhaps a family heirloom. But why would he have it? Father was the oldest brother so all personal items, such as the Hyuga estate, would go to him.

Pursing my lips, I debated whether or not I should open it but decided against it. It probably smelled. I sat it on the bedside table before pulling out the kimono. It was really quite divine. I wonder if it was Uncle Hizashi's wife's. How charming. Smiling, I fixed it within its box and placed it in an empty dresser drawer.

After this, I went back and grabbed the handmade paper tie and the school assignments and placed them in a drawer in my pristine desk. The dagger set went into the same drawer. The blades were glittering silver, nearly the same color as the handle and sheath. There were three of them, two particularly long and another shorter. Each one came with bands so you could strap them on to your legs and arms. I noticed the intricate, spidery designs on the sheath and decided they were far too feminine to belong to Uncle. Another odd possession of his. It seemed he owned a lot of items that should have belonged to a woman.

Subsequent of inspecting and hiding the daggers, I took the ancient arrow in the glass box out and held it gingerly. I felt like that if I opened the box, the fresh air would cause the arrow to disintegrate. At first, I was going to place it on one of the empty shelves on my bookshelf but decided against it and concealed it beneath my bed, near my head. Plucking the book out of my pack, I hid it in the drawer in the nightstand, promising myself to read it later. I wanted to know what Uncle Hizashi was so interested in. When done with all the merchandise, I preceded with the clothes. Sometimes, if we couldn't afford any new clothes for me, I would just wear Uncle's since they were so big, they fit my form fine.

And it wasn't like I had to wear the clothes for the rest of my life. The limo driver took off to take the rest of my stuff and it made my face burn with humiliation and rage at the thought of him going through my underwear. I prayed to the Lord a woman would be there to move my stuff, perhaps one of the women from Itachi's police force. At least I could trust them. Even if they tried anything, Itachi would give them a whooping. He was like an over protective older brother to me. Only he was really attractive. Like, really attractive. Unimaginably attractive. Gorgeous.

Speaking of gorgeous, I was tempted by the kimono. It was pulling to me. Sauntering back over to the dresser, I peeked into the drawer, teasing the soft fabric with my finger tips. I would try it on just once. Yes. I would try it on and then be done with it and the temptation will leave. With a sigh and a thought about how Uncle Hizashi would be disappointed with me, I pulled the kimono out and laid it on the bed. Checking to make sure the door was closed I stripped my shoes, sweater, pants and shirt off. The sun glided over my skin and goosebumps ran over my skin.

If any of you have every put on a kimono before, you know how hard it is, especially with all the parts such as the Date eri, the datejime, the nagajuban. There are just a lot of parts and a lot of things to do. It seemed to take forever to get everything on. I rarely ever where kimonos. Uncle and I dressed up for some parties and my friends and I go to festivals every year, dressed up but nothing I had ever worn was even close to the exquisiteness as the kimono that was in Uncle's personal drawer.

When I was done and feeling good about it, I smoothed my hands along my stomach, feeling beautiful. I never considered myself attractive, not even close to my friends, but I'd like to think that I wasn't hideous. Tossing my long, eggplant colored hair over my right shoulder, I dug into the pocket of my sweater and pulled out the rings. Gingerly, I pulled the tiny silver band and slipped it onto my left ring finger. I looked like a proper wife, the kind from a fairy tale.

In 1891, Oscar Wilde wrote in The Picture of Dorian Gray, those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love; it is the faithless who know love's tragedies.

I had never dreamed of being in love or getting married and I still doubt it will ever happen. It seems almost fickle, to keep someone else with you for the rest of your life. And, to tell you the truth, humans scare me. It's so easy to hurt them and it's even harder to mend them. They can always betray you. Just like my father did to me. Because he loved my mother too much. Too much that he couldn't bare look at his own daughter.

Sitting down on the bed beside my pack, I pulled the book over to my lap. I know that I promised myself to read that tonight but I just can't help it. It looks so appetizing. Like a steak ready to be devoured. Gosh, I love books. They don't stab you in the back.

In the words of Edward P. Morgan, a book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man's mind can get both provocative and privacy.

Of course, all things considered, I'm a female.

Rather absently, I flipped through the thick, manila pages, waiting for something to catch my eye. It didn't take long. Covering one whole page was a painting of unearthly man whom was too divine to be real. If one thought that Uchiha Itachi was the most gorgeous man alive, they had not ever seen this vermilion haired man. His beauty was something legends were woven from. Scanning every feature of his pointed, youthful face, I reluctantly turned the page, wanting to know more on him, such as who he was and why he was in Uncle's history book. On the next page thought was a picture of a tea kettle. Not any tea kettle of course. No, no. It had to be my tea kettle.

A person often meet his destiny, Jean de La Fontaine admitted, on the road he took to avoid it.


	7. Chapter Seven

As soon as my mind comprehended the image of the kettle, I found myself pushing the book away from me, scrambling to wrap my fingers around the object in question. It still felt warm, just as it had in the limo on the way to the compound. This time, it was definitely the kettle. Or my hysteria. I still wasn't sure. With shaking fingers and bated breath, I began to peel at the seal on the stone surface. The ring clanged against the surface and I nearly cried. Swiftly, I checked it for any damages. Seeing none and thanking the Lord, I continued. I couldn't seem to peel the paper off fast enough and I nearly ripped it in the process but I didn't and laid it out tenderly on my bed.

When it finally fell away, I pushed open the lid. For sure I wasn't imagining it anymore. The kettle was a warmer temperature then it should have been. Hot air filled the entire room and the sun seemed to have gotten brighter and stronger. The temperature continued to rise until it felt like a sauna within my room. My breath was coming out in heaving gasps and I struggled to catch fresh air into my lungs. I grappled the side of my bed to get to my feet and attempted to get to the door but I could barely hold myself. It was so hot. Why was it so hot?

The kettle fell from my lap as soon as I began to flounder to my feet and rolled uselessly on its side. Sinking to my knees, I reached for it, figuring that if I put the lid back on, the torturous heat would leave. I pulled at the neck of my kimono as I crawled. I reached the lid just as something began to hiss. Sand was pouring out of the tea kettle, filling the room. Soon, not only was I choking on the heat but my own fear, which was filling up the room in a thick smog. Great, I was going to boil to death in a tea kettle made sauna and drown in a large quantity of sand. Perfect. Just my luck.

Wilson Mizner had said, the only sure thing about luck is that it will change. I better be winning a jackpot after this because I was going to die. Or at least, it felt like it.

I was going to join Uncle Hizashi sooner than I thought. Would people think it was a suicide, that getting taken in by my father was the last straw for Miss Hyuga Hinata and that she couldn't bare being away from her beloved guardian any longer.

It terrified me, that no one would know the truth. As attributed to James A. Garfield, the truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.

I was miserable.

I was going to die.

And that was the truth.

At the point which I figured I was going to pass out, something began to happen with the sand. It began to grow together, lifting and forming something. As it did so, the heat began to leave and my whole body began to grow light, despite the heavy layer of sweat that was covering me beneath the kimono. The first time I wear something priceless and I nearly die. Perfect.

Collapsing to the ground in exhaustion, I could only watch as the sand formed a humanoid shape. After the shape was formed, it was if someone had dipped it into color, for pigment began to wash over the shape but I only saw until the estimated height of what should have been the creature's knees before my vision began to fade, tears falling from the relief of the fading pain. Soon, I saw nothing.

There is much in the world to make us afraid, Frederick W. Cropp all but reassured. There is much more in our faith to make us unafraid.


	8. Chapter Eight

_There were steps somewhere in the distance but I was far to comfy to care. The bed formed to my body and it smelled of cinnamon and something sweet, a plant of some kind. The sheets were thick but quite smooth but it felt nice against my dry skin. It tangled around my legs, scratching at them and I shifted, content with the itch it was pacifying. _

_Something whispered in the background and I didn't move, a smile forming on my lips involuntarily. Throwing my arms over my head, I stretched and twisted, almost teasingly. I couldn't seem to control my body anymore. Everything was hazy, as if it were a dream. But, there was something else to it. It seemed to real. The details were all hyped up and I could sense everything around me. Everything _seemed_ real. _

_To treat your facts with imagination is one thing, but to imagine your facts is another, John Burroughs reminded._

_Another whisper carried throughout the room and this time I twisted towards it, peeking through my eyelids with a smile twitching onto my face. From my angle on the bed I could see a tall boy, not quite a man yet. His unruly hair seemed to be lathered with blood for it was so red and his eyes, vacant of pupils, were pale jewels that glowed from between heavy black circles that stood out against his pale, alabaster skin. His details were rather fuzzy, other than his broad shoulders and lean frame. His body had developed past the gangly teenage years but hadn't reached full maturity yet, telling me that he was around my age. To me, he seemed tall and almost imposing but a familiar aura floated about him that reassured me. Even though he seemed tall to me, he couldn't be larger than five eleven. _

_My first instinct would be fear. I should be scared that I was in the bed with a strange man watching over me but I wasn't. In fact, it made me feel safer. I knew that he would protect me. I wasn't sure how or why I felt like that for I knew, somewhere deep within me that I didn't know him yet._

_Yet, my heart was telling me that I did know him. _

_Horribly confusing it was. When my mind was telling me that everything was strange and that I was Alice entering the rabbit hole. _

_Leaning in close, I tried to inspect his face. I just barely glanced at him when his lips ghosted across my cheek down to the corner of my lips. A shock ran through my entire body and my heart clenched. Not painfully. The way the butterflies in my stomach fluttered, it was pleasant. Yes, I knew him. And I think I loved him. _

_Pulling away, he inspected me as much as I was scrutinizing him. His eyes were carefully guarded but were gentle. Like pleasant pools of aquamarine. The kind you would immediately sink into, not even noticing the slight chill that lingered in the tides. Something haunted him, something that he was keeping safely guarded under lock and key. I wanted to know what it was. Desperately so. _

_His hand, wide and strong, cupped my hip and he leaned me into him, pressing his nose into the top of my head. My own hands desperately sought out his chest and I massaged the pad of my palm along his muscles. Vibrating deep form within his chest was a purr and he playfully nipped at my ear. I laughed, but the sound never reached my ears, I only recognized the motion. _

_Reluctantly he pulled away from me and searched my eyes again. Speaking, another muffled sound entered the room. I couldn't understand a thing that escaped his lips. There was no sound to this world. This dreamland. It was highly unusual. _

_His hand dropped from my form and he padded away. Leaping to my feet, I raced after him, the cold shocking my exposed toes. Throwing my arms around his waist, I stole a hug and he laughed, or at least, it felt like it. It pulsated through him. Pleasant it was. Definitely pleasant. _

_Dropping away from his body, I pranced to the other side of the bed and gathered up my robes before hurrying into the other room, despite the silent protests of my beloved. Was that who he was? My feelings for him were so... passionate. I felt like I was in some sort of cheesy romance novel where there's dramatic family drama as usual and a happy ending and raunchy sex scene at the end where I pop out five million kids, the first one a son to take on the thrown or family business. _

_Somehow, like in every dream, I was suddenly dressed in my different clothes but I couldn't really see the details to them. I knew they were a violet color of some sort. Exiting the room, I spotted the boy, my dearest. He was reading something, his face grim and his beautiful lips, swollen from the night before, where squeezed into a tight line. My stomach flopped and I hurried to him, wrapping my petite hands around his forearm in reassurance. _

_At first, he didn't look at me, far to focused in rereading the scroll again. Each word was in scripted in ancient kanji and I found that I had no idea what any of it said. But, dream me knew and I gasped, the sound echoing dully within me. _

_Finally, he looked at me again and worry filled his sorrowful pools. What the hell did that scroll say? Slowly, as if he knew I didn't understand what was happening -perhaps I showed it in my eyes?- he pressed his nose against mine, like a dog. Then, our foreheads connected and then our lips. Something sizzled through my body and I suddenly understood why he was my beloved. He was perfect. It seemed that when we were together, we were whole. We were meant to be. _

_I didn't believe in love at first sight or soul mates but he was the real deal. Never had I felt anything so electric, so ideal. Not even when I lived in the antique store with uncle that faced the ramen stand and I would watch my first crush enter everyday without fail, stuffing his face with ten bowls of the stuff. I thought he was my first love. That we would be together forever and marry and grow old and I'd pop out a couple of gorgeous children with him._

_What I had felt for him was nothing more than attraction. Of course he had been cute but it was his personality. He was loud, proud, a bit obnoxious, positive, kind, faithful and just believin' it all the time. Legitimately, all the time. _

_But _him_. This vermillion haired hunk was it. The real deal. I suddenly understood every love song I had ever listened to and every meaningful, beautiful lyric passed through my brain on the way to my heart. _

_Something within me frowned at this declaration. No, something was not right here._

_Dreaming is an act of pure imagination, Uncle Hizashi would quote H.F Hedge, attesting in all men a creative power, which if it were available in waking, would make every man a Dante or Shakespeare. _

_He was nothing than my imagination. No, I reassured myself. He was my true love. We were meant to be, he was real. _

_A dream has the power to poison sleep, Percy Bysshe Shelley warned. I believed her but my other half, the other half irrevocably in love with the boy, scoffed. _

_From the mind of Edgar Cayce, dreams are todays answers to tomorrow's questions._

_What was my mind telling me then? Sending me this dream. How would this answer my questions of tomorrow. It didn't even have anything to do with my life. The perfect man, the best bed ever, the nicest clothes. This was not my life. I was living nothing more than a small figment of my imagination. A perfect little lie. _

_Nothing was what it seemed._

_But it seemed I was waking up. _


End file.
